To Save A Detective In 10 Days
by PipeSoot72
Summary: When Sherlock finally gets a case after a long boring week, he immediately accepts it. Everything turns out to be normal until Sherlock runs off and gets kidnapped and is then is held for ransom. What lengths will John go too to rescue Sherlock in 10 days before he's killed?
1. Chapter 1 - The Kidnap

_**221 Baker Street**_

**JW**

"Sherlock, listen to me-" I began only to get shoved out of the way by Sherlock. It's been a week since he's gotten a case and with each passing second Sherlock's mood worsened. Only a few seconds ago, he broke into my phone and deleted all of my contacts.

"Move out of my way, John!" Sherlock demanded, when I stepped back in front of him. I shook my head in response, stepping in front of him wherever he stepped. Sherlock scowled, ducking underneath my arms. I wrapped my arms around his midsection, stopping him in his tracks.

"No! I know what you're trying to do and Mrs. Hudson will not be happy if you shoot more holes in the wall!" I argued. Sherlock elbowed me in the stomach and jumped to my desk, reaching in the top drawer. I tackled him to the floor before he had a strong grip on the gun.

"Calm down for goodness sake, you wanker!" I grunted, pinning down the curly haired detective. Sherlock glared up me and started squirming around in attempt to get free.

I sighed, picking up the gun with my free hand and placed it back in the drawer. A disgruntled sigh came from Sherlock when I closed the drawer back up, locking it with the key. "How'd you even get the key?"

"You aren't the best at hiding things from me, John." Sherlock barked. I opened my mouth to respond, but at the last second someone knocked on the door. I looked up to see Lestrande walk in with a file in his hands.

Sherlock took this opportunity to bite my wrist and pushed me, making me stumble backwards. A few seconds later I heard Sherlock's door lock and an amused sigh come from the doorway. I stood up, feeling my wrist stinging, where there was a clear ring of bite-marks.

"Trouble in 221 Baker Street?" Lestrande grinned, placing the file on the coffee table, taking a seat in the armchair.

"Guess you could say that." I sighed, glancing over at the file. "New case?"

"Yep."

"Thank god. His boredom has made him insufferable all week long." I groaned, flipping through the file. "As you witnessed-" waving my wrist for emphasis, "only a moment ago." Lestrande let out a hearty laugh, small tears starting to form. He wiped them away as a familiar figure peered over my shoulder.

* * *

**SH**

"What are the details?" I asked, snatching the file from John' hands. Lestrande swallowed, hesitation forming in his movements. I picked up one of the many photos from the file, which showed a gruesome sight. It had a woman, late thirties, dark brown hair and fairly pale skin. But her limbs were missing so that it was only a torso with a head. I moved my gaze from the photo to Lestrande, who looked back with wary eyes.

"Katherine Smith, found death yesterday at 3:30 p.m. by a shopkeeper. Someone broke into the shop, deposited the body and left a message on the wall." Lestrande explained. I pulled out a photo of the wall that had a message on it.

" **'Let's talk sometime, Mr. Holmes.' **" I repeated, forcing away a smile. This case has suddenly become _very_ interesting. "What shop did this happen at?"

"That small souvenir shop that just opened a month ago down the street." Lestrande answered. "Does this mean you're accepting the case?" He asked, with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"Yes. Yes it does." I smirked, throwing my coat on.

_**Souvenir for the Ages**_

After a fifteen-minute walk, the three men arrived at the souvenir shop - Souvenir for the Ages. Outside an old man of about 60 years old stood outside was watching the cops. Shopkeeper. I noted, stepping over broken glass and into the shop.

Upon entering a familiar voice called greeting to me. A familiar and _annoying_ voice.

"Oi Freak." Donavan called. Her lips curled into a smile when she saw me flinch at her little nickname.

"Sgt. Donavan." I replied. Anderson walked up behind her, holding a clipboard with a smug look on his face. He must have seen my reaction as well. Damn. "Anderson."

"Sherlock have you come to do your little freak show or what?" Anderson said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I held a hand in front of his face for my response, instead inspecting the broken glass panel. Broken glass on the inside, but there is less glass inside then the broken glass outside. Conclusion: intruder broke the window from the inside. Interesting.

Anderson turned away with a scowl, walking over to Lestrande and whispered something in his ear. Lestrande's face looked thoughtful for a moment, but quickly returned to emotionless, giving nothing away. I pulled on my gloves and picked up a couple pieces of broken glass that were a strange blue hue in the faint sunlight.

I pulled out my magnifying glass and brought it over one of the pieces that had something written on it. " 'You want information? Go search upstairs.' " I murmured as I read the glass engraving. The glass wasn't made of regular glass and it felt glossy, most likely an expensive brand of glass.

Upstairs... I probably shouldn't, John has gotten angry with me for doing that. After a minute or two my curiosity got the better of me. Nothing looked out of place in the upstairs room except for a small gift-wrapped box on the coffee table. I opened the card on the box, quickly reading the message inside.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_ Hello, I've wanted to meet you for a very long time. That's why I set up that little display downstairs; hopefully you got a chance to see it before the Scotland Yard messed it up. Well for you're needs for information...__** Open the box.**_

_ -Sincerely-_

_ Mr. Smith_

I picked up the box, which was wrapped in a dreadfully bright pink paper, and gingerly tore of the paper. I lifted the box's lid to see a piece of paper with another message on it.

"The jokes on you Sherlock." A voice spoke. Before I could react something that felt like a steel pipe hit my head. My vision went black as I heard a slight chuckle behind me.

* * *

**JW**

I watched Sherlock climb the stairs to the upstairs apartment when Lestrande walked over to me.

"Where's Sherlock gone?" He asked, putting his hands in his pockets. I gestured to the stairs and an annoyed look came across Lestrande's face.

"There isn't anything up there. All of it happened down here." Lestrande sighed.

"Well let's go see what Sherlock is doing. Shall we?" I said, climbing the stairs with Lestrande close behind. We opened the door to find no Sherlock, but a phone on a coffee table.

"Sherlock?" Lestrande called out cautiously. "Damn it! I wish he would at least give some warning before he up and disappears." He muttered something inaudible and turned to leave. Right when Lestrande reached the open doorway the phone began to ring. The phone's ringtone was _extremely_ disturbing. The ringtone was the sound of someone screaming. I answered the phone as quickly as I could, holding the phone slightly away from my face.

"Hello?" I answered. Instantly laughter sounded from the phone. Lestrande stepped beside me, listening in on the phone call carefully.

"Hello Dr. Watson and Detective Lestrande. My name is James Smith and it's a pleasure of mine to talk to you both." James said, a little out of breath. "You seem to have lost your little detective." I tensed, gripping the phone tightly.

"Where's Sherlock?" I asked, panic starting to set in. A roar of laughter came from the phone, making me hold the phone away from my ear. "What's so funny? Answer me!"

"Calm down Dr. Watson, he's fine for now. To get him back although is a different story, but I do have a request."

"What's your request?" Lestrande asked, taking over the phone call.

"Give me 10,000 pounds." James requested, his voice holding back more laughter. Lestrande's jaw dropped and he looked at me with disbelief in his eyes. "Do stop making that face, it's unsightly, sir." With that he closed his mouth, his brow furrowing in frustration.

"10,000 pounds..."

"Yes. You have 10 days to deliver the 10,000 pounds to a warehouse in the country."

"And what if we don't." Lestrande said, putting the phone on speaker. James chuckled lightly.

"Well then in 10 days Sherlock Holmes will be dead."

* * *

**This is my first fanfiction so don't beat me up too much please. If you have any ideas for how to further the story (because sometimes I get serious writer's block) tell me in a PM message.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-PipeSoot72-**


	2. Chapter 2 - Day 1

**JW**

**Souvenir for the Ages**

"You have three options." James said, without giving me a chance to answer. Not that I could muster any words anyway. "Option 1: Deliver the 10,000 pounds, option 2: wait 10 days and let him die, or option 3: you could find Sherlock Holmes." I swallowed, looking at Lestrande, who had a very serious expression. At times Lestrande could be very protective over Sherlock and now was one of those times. "Anyway it's been good talking to you. Good day. Hold on." James spoke, getting interrupted by a groan. "It's seems Sherlock may be awake. Give me one moment."

"Let me speak to him!" I demanded, clutching the phone tightly. From the phone I could hear James attempts at trying to wake Sherlock from his sleep.

"Alright he's up, I'll give you time to talk." James said. Sherlock must have done something because not a moment later James cursed. "Here take the damn phone, you git!"

"Sherlock? Sherlock! Are you okay?" I demanded, too impatient for an answer.

"I'm fine, John." He replied weakly.

"You don't sound too fine."

"They're about to take the phone back."

"No wait! Sherlock!"

"Don't worry John-" That was the last thing I heard from Sherlock before the call ended abruptly. The dial tone that echoed throughout the room was almost deafening. I felt Lestrande's hand on my shoulder, but didn't move until I heard someone walk up the stairs. I turned to see Anderson and Donavan enter through the open door.

"Where'd the freak go?" Donavan asked, saying freak with extra bitterness. Annoyance flashed through her eyes when she noticed Lestrande's expression. "Ugh what'd the freak do now?"

"Sherlock's been kidnapped and is being held for ransom." Lestrande growled, barging past the two. I followed closely after him as he called the cops at the scene around him. When I looked at Donavan it seemed for once she was actually worried about Sherlock.

* * *

**SH **

**12:00 a.m. - Day 1**

I awoke to a stinging sensation at the base of my head and brought my hand to the spot of the pain.A sticky substance dripped over my fingers, staining them a deep red. I groaned and opened my eyes, only to be greeted by pitch-black darkness. After a few minutes, my eyes adjusted to the darkness to where I could make out a figure in the darkness. Pain radiated throughout my head as I studied the figure. Male, 38 years old.

The man in the chair grinned upon seeing me. He flicked the lights on, the luminescent light blinding my eyes.

"Hello Mr. Holmes." He grinned. "You've been drifting in and out of conciseness for the past few hours. Sorry about that little 'scrape', but my friend got a bit carried away." The man stood up and walked over, crouching down in front of me. "I'm James Smith; it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." James said, holding out his hand. I snapped at his hand, missing his fingers by a centimeter. James looked at his fingers, his lips slightly curling into a smile. "Feisty now, aren't we?"

I glanced around the room, my head stinging with each tilt of the head. It was a small room with a vibrant green chair and a slightly weathered coffee table. Suddenly I felt a strong grip on my chin, bringing my gaze back to James' cold expression. He was still smiling, but it seemed angrier than before and his fingers dug uncomfortably into my chin.

"I don't believe we were done talking, Mr. Holmes." He spoke as though he was scolding a small child. That time I did manage to bite his ring finger, which made him swear as he tried to release his finger. "Let go you damn fool!" James yelled, raising his fist and brought it down on my head. He hit me repeatedly, until I finally released his finger because of the disguising metallic taste in my mouth.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Smith." I sneered, only to receive another punch to the face. I could feel bruises already starting to form on my cheek, but I kept my gaze level with his.

"Listen closely Mr. Holmes. In 10 days if you're little army doctor and the Scotland Yard don't find you- you will die!" James growled, anger coursing through his eyes. His face was inches away from mine, his breath smelling deeply of nicotine and smoke. "I suggest you don't test me."

I laughed which earned me another punch, except this time to the stomach. My vision started to get a bit blurry as I swayed back and forth. James stood up, a smile plastered back on his face. He pulled out a mobile phone and snapped a picture of my pathetic state.

"I believe it's time to update everyone on how you're doing." He grinned, slipping the phone back in his pocket. With that he turned and reached for the door, pulling it open in one swift motion. "Good day, Mr. Holmes." He said, closing the door behind him. A moment later I heard the soft click of the door locking and bile rose up in my throat. I threw up the contents of my small lunch, barely missing the edge of my jacket.

"Save me John." I whispered, as my vision went black once more and I fell into a painfully uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

**JW**

**12:37 a.m. - 221 Baker Street**

Lestrande told me to get some rest, but I just couldn't knowing somewhere out there was Sherlock being held captive. I had been drifting in and out of sleep while watching crap telly on the sofa, when the phone from the scene rang; its disturbing ring tone echoing throughout the apartment. Its small source of light illuminated the room as I read the most recent message.

It was a photo message and a very worrying picture at that. The picture showed Sherlock with blood matted in his hair and light bruises on his cheeks. It was captioned, "Sherlock seems to be a little bit tired. Wouldn't you agree, John?"

I closed my eyes and gripped the phone tightly, so tight one might have feared it would snap in two. "No matter what it takes, Sherlock, I will find you."

* * *

**10 days in chapters is a little short; how would you feel about if each day would be a couple chapters? Example Day 1 would be 2 or 3 chapters maybe and after the 10 days there would be bonus chapters? Tell me what you think of this idea in reviews or a PM message. **

**Also to explain James Smith, he is the typical rich, high-in-power, maniac who gets a kick out of seeing others' pain. He's never been caught in any of the murders he has participated in, but he heard of how smart Sherlock was and decided to try a puzzle. His thoughts are basically, "If Sherlock is smart that means John should be too." (Hopefully this helps explain his character a little; if not just send me a message.)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-PipeSoot72-**


	3. Chapter 3 - Day 1 The Ledge

**JW**

**221 Baker Street - 7:48 a.m.**

I opened my eyes to the warm sunlight filtering in through the slightly open curtains. I groaned, rubbing the heel of my hand against my temple. During the night I had woken up multiple times, due to nightmares. Not nightmares from the war, but of Sherlock being tied up and tortured. I shuttered at the mere thought of Sherlock being beat up.

The phone, which was still in my clutched hand, fell to the ground with a soft thud. I picked it up, dropping it into my pocket when my own phone started the ring. I picked it up, my eyes scanning over the message quickly.

**Hey, John we need you down here. - GL**

**What happened? - JW**

**We got a letter from Mr. Smith. - GL**

**I'll be there soon. - JW**

I pulled on my coat, locking the door before racing down the stairs. My heart was practically beating out of my chest as I reached for the door when an elderly voice called to me. I cursed quietly, turning to meet to meet the elderly woman shuffling towards me.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson." I said, placing a light kiss on her cheek.

"Morning, John. Where are you racing off to so early in the morning?" She asked. Mrs. Hudson glanced past me looking for the tall lanky presence that wasn't there. "Where's Sherlock." My jaw clenched automatically at her question. I could tell her the truth, but I didn't have the time to give answers that I didn't have to a confused woman. Right now I need to read that letter, in hopes it contains vital information to finding Sherlock.

"Oh he went off to a new case. You know him, always racing headfirst into trouble." I answered, nervously laughing.

"I didn't hear him use the front door though..."

"He...uh...went through the...window."

"Window?"

"Yes...but you know I should really follow after him before he gets into trouble- more trouble. Bye Mrs. Hudson." I said, trying to hail a cab simultaneously. After a minute or two one cab pulled over to the sidewalk.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Take me to Scotland Yard." I replied quickly. The cab driver dipped his head in response, turning the wheel and driving back onto the busy London Street. Something seemed familiar about the cab driver, but I didn't pay much attention as all my concentration was focused on the letter. I rested my chin against my fist, slouching a bit in the car as buildings blurred past.

The cab soon pulled to a gentle stop in front of a building. I threw a fistful of bills at the cab driver, jumping out as fast as I could. I raced inside and up to Lestrande's office. When I walked in, Donavan and Anderson were standing in Lestrande's office. I mumbled a quick greeting before sitting in one of the empty chairs. A few minutes later Lestrande walked in with a letter in one hand and a phone in the other.

"This morning when I got here-" he paused, passing the note to me, "-this was taped to my office door."

"Why haven't you opened it?" I asked, flipping the letter over.

"It said if anyone else opened that besides you that he would hurt Sherlock. I couldn't take the chance of that being a bluff." Lestrande said, sitting in his chair and slouching a bit.

I fiddled with the note before slowly opening the letter. The paper felt rough against my trembling fingers; I nearly dropped the letter several times. I cleared my throat before reading the note out loud.

**Day 1**

Somewhere in the Scotland Yard is a note with a clue to Sherlock's location and the location of the warehouse. If you still want that option though. I don't really like puzzles, but life risking stunts to save a detective is definitely interesting. On the building across the street about five stories up is a ledge. On the ledge is a folder containing a clue to where Sherlock is being held; be careful though, this won't work all the way through ten days.

**-Sincerely-**

**James Smith**

"What?" Lestrande said, grabbing the note. His eyes scanned over the note quickly, brows furrowing in frustration. He turned around, pressing his fingertips against the window, which eventually caused them to turn a shade of white. Lestrande muttered a quiet curse, his stretched out hands curling into fists. I followed his line of sight to a dull orange letter carrier lying halfway off the fifth floor ledge.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." I said, stuffing the letter in my front pocket. I heard a slight gasp behind me and Donavan shuffled closer to the window. I could understand her surprise, even though it was Donavan. Anderson however seemed a bit more annoyed then surprised judging by the slight crease in between his eyebrows.

"How'd Mr. Smith even get that up there?" Lestrande asked to no one in particular.

"What do you mean?" I asked, moving closer to the window, slightly pushing Donavan aside. When I got to the window, Lestrande pointed to the windows near the letter.

"Those windows don't open. I know because Sherlock told me once to prove a silly point." He pointed out, frowning slightly at the mention of Sherlock.

"Well how do we get the letter then? It's halfway off the ledge already and it looks like something else besides a letter is in there." I asked. Even from far away I could see a slight rise in the faded orange color.

"If there's something else in there then we can't wait for it to fall down. We need to get it now." Lestrande said, grabbing his coat. I glanced over at the window once more before following Lestrande out of the building. "Someone's going to have to walk across the ledge to retrieve the letter." He said, opening the door, letting everyone out onto the street before him.

I felt a slight vibrating in my pocket and pulled out Mr. Smith's phone. It had one new message.

**I think the doctor should walk the tightrope. –JS**

I forced down the rising sickness and looked at Lestrande.

"I'll be that someone."

* * *

**Sorry I uploaded late (computer problems + writer's block) always fun.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-PipeSoot72-**


	4. Chapter 4 - Day 1 Family Meetings

**9:53 a.m.**

**JW**

It had taken nearly two hours before Lestrande finally convinced the owner of the building to let me walk across the ledge. Luckily the package hadn't fallen off the ledge in those two hours. Since the window didn't open I had to drop down from the sixth floor ledge. Worst part about it was that I wasn't allowed to use a rope. Both Lestrande and I got a text saying, **"No safety allowed. -JS"**

From the ground jumping down from the ledge didn't look so bad, it looked easy in fact, but from the sixth floor it looked a million times worse. I forced the rising sickness down and looked at Lestrande. He looked many years older with the look of concern etched deep into his face. He glanced at me briefly before opening the sixth floor window, stepping aside so I could approach.

I slipped one leg through the window, sitting on the windowsill for a moment. The ground was a sickening sight from this high off the ground. It reminded me too much of when Sherlock faked his own death.

I brought my other leg over the side and carefully slid off to stand fully on the ledge. The ledge was just wide enough for me to stand on which was a little comforting. I tried not to focus on the distant people looking up curiously as I crouched down on the ledge. Lestrande appeared in the window and looked at me.

"Once you get the package drop it down to Donavan then jump down to the landing platform we have set up for you." He said calmly. Lestrande's voice was stern and calm, but he looked terrified even though he wasn't the one on the ledge.

"I'll be alright, Lestrande." I said reassuringly, shivering slightly at the cold.

"Well we can only hope Mr. Smith doesn't try anything funny." Lestrande smirked in an attempt to lighten the mood. I smiled lightly to reassure him before returning to the task at hand.

I dropped down so that I held myself up by my arms, leaving my legs to dangle in mid-air. I heard a few startled gasps as I climbed down even more so that I was holding on to the ledge by a few measly fingers.

My focus dropped down to the fifth floor ledge and I immediately regretted that decision, considering it was still a good distance away. One slip of the hand could send me flying to the ground and dying, except I wouldn't be clever enough to find a way to magically not be dead. I grimaced slightly at the thought.

Oh well. I guess it's now or never. With that last thought I forced myself to let go of the ledge and fell down to the fifth floor ledge.

**10:03 a.m.**

* * *

**SH**

A sharp pain shot through my left arm, which woke me up from my uncomfortable sleep. I opened my eyes to see a tall slightly tanned man gripping my arm tightly with an annoyed expression.

"Get up." He growled, releasing my arm. I stretched out my legs and grabbed around for something to pull myself up. My vision was still a little blurry so when I found something it turned out to be the man's arm. The man didn't say anything as I sleepily pulled myself up. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and slipped them around my wrists.

"Where are we?" I asked, my vision still blurry.

"Shut up and walk." He snapped, shoving me towards the open door. I clenched my jaw shut, feeling a sharp object pressing lightly against my back. That being a pretty good reason to be quiet, I walked slowly towards the door, entering a long dim hallway. The man was silent as he opened a door with Mr. Smith sitting calmly in a faded blue chair.

"Hope you slept well, Mr. Holmes." James grinned, gesturing towards the chair across from him. I edged towards the chair and reluctantly sat down; scowling slightly at James whose grin grew wider.

"As well as sleep can get with a concussion." I admitted, leaning back into the chair. James chuckled slightly, reaching for a TV. Remote that was resting on the armchair.

"You can thank the man behind you for that." James said, turning on the TV. I glanced over at the man who smirked back at me. "My little brother gets a bit carried away sometimes."

"What did you bring me here for?" I asked, glancing around the room. The TV screen flickered on to show the building across from the Scotland Yard building. I stared in horror at the sight before me. I saw John hanging from the ledge of the building and Lestrande checking the time on his watch.

I jumped up out of the chair when John let go of the ledge only to be forced back down by James' brother. His hands gripped my shoulders to keep me from getting out of the seat again. I twisted around and bit his exposed wrist and he howled in pain. He jumped backwards, holding his injured wrist and I jumped towards James' brother.

It was a short-lived fight, which ended with me getting punched several times in the face. I sat back in the chair with a busted lip and a black eye now. James shook his head and shut off the TV.

"Take him back." James sighed. His brother grabbed my arm and pulled me up from the chair in one fluid motion. "It's your first day and you're already practically sleeping in a grave." James got up from his chair, bringing a hand through his hair and walked past me.

James walked to the door and stopped, answering his ringing phone and holding it a small distance away from his ear.

"James Smith here." He answered. James stayed silent for a few seconds then turned around and placed the phone in my hand. I looked at him questioningly, but accepted the phone and held it up to my ear. The voice that greeted me was normally an annoyance, but in this situation it was quite a relief.

"Hello Mycroft."

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock BBC**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully I will update this story by next Sunday. Reviews are appreciated!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-PipeSoot72-**


	5. Chapter 5 - Day 1 - Failure

**10:09 a.m.**

**SH**

"Sherlock are you okay?" Mycroft asked, his voice thick with concern. I glanced briefly at James, who was biting his fingernails quietly. He was obviously not happy about Mycroft suddenly calling him on his private phone.

"I have a black eye."

Mycroft paused for a moment before asking, "Sherlock where are you?"

"I can't say." I replied, edging away from James' brother, who was trying to get his brother to stop chewing on his fingernails.

"I'm fine." I said, handing the phone back to James. James muttered a quick good day to Mycroft before hanging up and slipping the phone back into his pocket. James slipped a hand behind his head, scratching his cheek slightly, with a look of confusion clear on his face.

"Something wrong, James?" James' brother asked, gripping my forearm tighter.

"Nothing's wrong Markus. Return Mr. Holmes to his room while I think about things." James replied, quickly leaving the room. Markus was silent for a moment before pushing me forward out of the room. We walked in silence back to my room and when we arrived, Markus opened the door and let me walk inside.

"May I have these handcuffs removed?" I asked, holding up my hands and tugging slightly at the steel around my wrists.

"No." Markus scowled, stomping out of the room. The door slammed shut and I heard the click of the door locking. Left in a room by myself with handcuffs on, no cameras, and a pair of keys I pick pocketed off of Markus. A slight smile made its way across my lips as I plucked a set of keys from my pockets.

I quickly found the key for the handcuffs and unlocked them, letting them fall to the ground as I rubbed the raw skin on my wrists. I sat down in the chair, rested my head against my fist and drifted off to a light sleep.

* * *

**Scotland Yard - 12:39 p.m.**

**JW**

The contents of the now opened orange package were carefully arranged on Lestrande's desk. We stared at the items with so many questions that weren't answered by opening the package. Now we had even more unanswered questions because of what was found inside the package.

The package I jumped from a ledge to get had a small music box, a silver locket, and a letter. The music box was made out of maple wood and had a small ballerina that spun around whenever it opened, which was quite annoying. The silver locket had an engraving that said, "_Memories_" and on the inside were pictures of Sherlock.

Lestrande glanced at the music box, the locket, and the letter before repeating the process. Donavan and Anderson left after I got a text saying, "**No extra help. -JS**"

Mr. Smith was making this quite difficult for us with all of his extra rules.

"These clues don't make any sense!" Lestrande huffed, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back into his chair. Usually Lestrande was calm and kept his cool, but this incident with Sherlock was definitely showing his bad side.

"Well maybe the clues would make more sense if we read the letter." I said, reaching for the letter. Lestrande sighed, furrowing his brows in frustration. I opened it, a small object falling out as I pulled out the letter. It fell to the floor with a slight thud, skidding slightly across the wooden boards, rolling to a stop against the leg of my chair.

I bent over and picked it up, under the careful watch of Lestrande, who was peering over his desk. It was a clear marble with blue in the middle.

"It's just a marble. Calm down Lestrande." I said, placing it amongst the other items.

"Why does Mr. Smith put random items together and call them clues?" Lestrande sighed. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a file, spreading out the photos on his desk. After a second, he plucked the letter from my hand and put three photos in my hand. I quickly glanced over the photos, seeing it was the crime scene photos from the souvenir store.

"Crime scene photos. So what?" I asked, looking up at Lestrande. Lestrande pointed to the edge of one of the photos, which showed a line of souvenirs. In the line of souvenirs was the music box that was currently sitting on Lestrande's desk. "So he stole souvenirs from a souvenir shop."

"It seems like it. I think he was in the souvenir shop when Sherlock got kidnapped." Lestrande suggested, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

"I don't think Mr. Smith would do something that up close and personal." I countered quickly. "Maybe he had one of the policemen working for him."

"Possibly..." Lestrande sighed, rubbing his hands together momentarily. "That still doesn't explain how he saw us upstairs because none of the policemen were up there with us." I pulled the letter out, glancing over it before handing it over to Lestrande, who was still looking at each object suspiciously. He took the letter and read over it while I examined the music box.

"So what do you think of Mr. Smith's clues?" I asked, after Lestrande finished reading the note.

"I think they're crappy clues at most. Its all we got though so let's go." Lestrande sighed, grabbing his coat. I grabbed my coat and we walked down the stairs and out onto the streets.

* * *

**5:27 p.m.**

**SH**

I woke up, a little surprised Markus hasn't already realized I stole his keys. This was strange because he kept all of his keys in his pocket except for the one to my door, which was kept on his belt loop. I looked around the room, seeing no other option of escape besides the door. I walked over to the door and pulled out a paperclip I had found in the cushion of the chair, unlocking the door in a matter of seconds.

The hallway was quiet, the only sound was the dulled car horns' going off every few seconds, which must mean where ever I am is underground. Some of the wooden boards creaked underneath my feet as I made my way down the hallway, giving my position away momentarily. I turned the corner at the end of the hall and saw a door slightly open with James inside, who was pacing back and forth with a phone in his hand.

"What do you mean?" James asked into the speakerphone, biting his nails. The person on the other side sighed and James stopped pacing. "What do you mean the treatment failed?"

"This happens, James. I'm sorry, but the treatment failed and there's not much more we can do about it." James sunk into a nearby chair, dragging his hand across his face before staring at the wall, a distant look in his eyes.

"How long do I have?" James asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Well counting today you have ten days left."

"Ten days left to live." James mumbled, hanging up and letting the phone drop onto the floor.

"Impeccable timing as always, Sherlock. You might as well come in now."

* * *

**So sorry for this super late update! Hope you're enjoying the series so far.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Pipesoot72-**


	6. Chapter 6 - Day 1 - Conversations

**5:28 p.m.**

**SH**

I nudged the door open with my foot and walked in, closing the door quietly behind me. I sat down in the chair across from James, tapping the arm of the chair rhythmically. James looked up at me, a look of exhaustion in his green eyes, which was quickly erased by a look of annoyance. He stood up and straightened out his wrinkled shirt, spinning the ring on his right hand back and forth, while avoiding eye contact with me.

"You are possibly one of the worst problems I've had to deal with Mr. Holmes." James sighed, leaning against the arm of his chair.

"Why would that be?" I smirked, lacing my fingers together and resting my chin on my fingers. The edge of James' lips twitched slightly, which was possibly the beginning of a smile before he returned to an emotionless expression.

"Oh you know. You're never where you're supposed to be and you always hear what people don't want you to hear." He replied, staring intently at the floorboards of the room. I nod subtly because on several different occasions I've heard that from many people. Mainly Lestrande, John, and Mrs. Hudson and sometimes Mycroft.

"That's what a lot of people say." I said.

"Why would that be I wonder?" James asked, breaking his concentration from the floorboards to look at me. "I see you got rid of your handcuffs." James said, pointing at my hands.

"Yes, your brother isn't the sharpest tack in the box." I admitted, leaning back in my chair.

"That's true." James agreed, pausing for a moment. I raised my eyebrows at him and James sighed. "He may be my brother, but that doesn't mean I have to defend him all the time."

"That doesn't seem like a very nice brotherly thing to do." I said, earning a slight chuckle from James for a second before he returned to an emotionless expression again.

"You think so?" James asked, twisting the ring on his finger once again.

"Yes." I stated. "So you have ten days just like me. Why's that?" I asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"Ah yes that. While I was in India I picked up a nasty little virus, which I had to get treatments for and as you heard one of the treatments failed." James explained his voice filled with annoyance.

"Well we both have 10 days now. Although since I have no handcuffs there's nothing trapping me here and I don't see your brother anywhere." I said, rising from my chair. "I can leave, which means I no longer have a time limit on my life." I walked to the door, reaching for the door handle.

"Wait. I know you won't leave Mr. Holmes." He said, after I opened the door.

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"Because you're Sherlock Holmes. You want to know how this'll turn out. You need to know, but if you leave you'll never know." James argued, picking his phone up off the ground. "It's only day one and do you really want to go back to boring cases and doing nothing for days on end?" James asked, pulling out his phone. When I didn't reply, I heard the beeping of a phone, which must mean James is sending a text to someone.

"You want to know if your colleagues are smart enough to find and rescue you."

"How would you know what I'm thinking?" I asked, taking a step closer to the door.

"Again, you're Sherlock Holmes, the man who must have answers. I've been planning this for years now don't you think I would have some of my men be near you."

"Why don't you sit back down and let things play out." James said. My hand that was still hovering over the door handle, twitched slightly. I am curious. It was very tempting to stay, too tempting for me to refuse and leave.

I swirled around and stepped back to my chair, sitting down quietly. James glanced at me briefly before focusing back on his phone. James' lips curled in a subtle smile and he continued sending a text.

* * *

**221 Baker Street – 8: 59 p.m.**

**JW**

After a solid eight hours of roaming around the city on a wild goose chase for clues to where Sherlock was, Lestrande finally decided to call it a day and dropped me off at 221 Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson greeted me when I walked in and I walked up to my flat, trudging towards my bedroom.

I opened the door to my bedroom and flopped down on my bed, resting my head against the cold pillow. My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I didn't reach for it. It was probably mother checking in on how I was, which is what she does every now and then, but I didn't want to text her back right now.

I looked at the phone on my nightstand, which was the phone I got from Mr. Smith. The black phone case was barely visible in the darkness of the room. I picked it up, going through the phone's content. It only had two contacts, which were James Smith and Markus Smith whoever Markus was. The phone had tons of photos, mostly of Sherlock at crime scenes or Sherlock sitting by the window in Angelo's. It was creepy, but I guess that's what Mr. Smith was going for, considering the ring tone is someone screaming. I glanced over the previous text messages sent by Mr. Smith when the phone vibrated and a notification appeared on the tiny screen. One new message from James Smith.

I sat up quickly, ignoring the slight blood rush and opened up the text.

"**End of Day 1. Hope you're having fun. - JS.**"

I scowled at the message, disgust for Mr. Smith creating an unpleasant taste in my mouth. I tossed the phone across the room, it landing in my laundry bin.

9 days left. It can't be that hard.

* * *

**We've reached the end of Day 1! This day was a little long since it was only supposed to be 3 chapters so I think I might start combining chapters in 2+ words instead of just 1+. Hope you're enjoying it so far!**

**Thanks for Reading!**

**-PipeSoot72-**


	7. Chapter 7 - Day 2 - Detective Letters

**Day - 2**

** 9:28 a.m.**

**SH**

I was returned to my room, relived of my handcuffs, paperclip, and set of keys. It was James that returned me to my room not Markus though. I wondered where Markus was, probably sulking over the fact I proved to be smarter than him. When we got to my room I walked inside, and James handed me a pen and paper.

"What's this for?" I asked, looking down at the items in my hands.

"It's for writing a letter. What else would it be used for? Write whoever you want." James sighed, pulling out a key from his pocket. James left the room without any further explanation.

There was only one person I could think to write a letter to, John.

* * *

**221 Baker Street **

**10:57 a.m.**

**JW**

The morning light streaming in through the open curtains woke me up, while giving me a headache at the same time. I sat up, bringing a hand across my face. I heard birds chirping outside the apartment as I got up, then trudged sleepily to the kitchen to make coffee. Once the coffee was done I reached towards the cupboard to get two mugs, one for me and one for Sherlock.

Then I remembered Sherlock was kidnapped and put one of the mugs back into the cupboard. It was strange not seeing him at the kitchen table, working on an experiment that he stayed up all night to finish. Or not having him walk in with case files in his hands as he tried to solve a case. It was strange and I didn't like it at all. It just wasn't the same without Sherlock in the flat.

I took a sip of my coffee, which was still hot and burned the back of my throat. I rested my chin in the palm of my hand and took another sip of coffee. I didn't even realize I made black coffee with two sugars, but knew it tasted bland.

"He's not dead, John. Stop thinking like that." I said to myself, feeling warmth seep through the cup to my cold hands. _He could be._ Another part of me argued, but I pushed that thought to the back of my mind. I heard Mrs. Hudson walk into the flat by the soft shuffle of her feet.

"Morning, John." She said. I looked up and saw her looking back at me, a broad smile plastered on her face. "Where's Sherlock?" She asked, looking around the flat for the curly-haired detective that wasn't there. My shoulders curved in and I rested my head in my hands. Mrs. Hudson placed a hand on my shoulder and from the corner of my eye I could see her worried expression. "What's wrong, John?"

"Nothing I just have a slight headache." I replied, looking away towards the window.

"Alright then." Mrs. Hudson said, shifting around some messy piles of paper on the counter. "Oh there's a man downstairs who wants to see you." She said, starting to leave.

"Who?"

"He says his name is Markus Smith."

"Okay then. Goodbye, Mrs. Hudson." I said, going to my room. I quickly got changed and walked down the stairs, seeing a tanned man leaning against the wall, his eyes closed as if he's trying to shut out all the noise in the world. "Um...hello Markus- Mr. Markus I mean Mr. Smith. Um.. Who are you?" I asked stuttering. His name sounded so familiar, but I couldn't remember where I heard it before.

"I have a letter for you from my brother, whom you probably know." Markus said, ignoring my question. He pulled out a crumpled note from his pocket. He handed it over and I hesitantly took the note, glancing over it. I looked up at Markus, raising my eyebrows at him.

"I'm sorry, but who's your brother? I don't recall meeting you or your brother." I asked, stuffing the letter in my pocket.

"Seriously, Mr. Watson. You really can't piece it together?" Markus asked, crossing his arms. I shook my head in response, my headache causing me to squint my eyes. Markus rolled his eyes, "I'm James Smith's brother. Markus Smith, which should be one of the contacts on the phone you got from my brother."

I should have known he was his brother when I heard his last name. My outstretched palms curled into fists and I scowled at him, who only smiled back at me.

"You're the brother of the man who kidnapped my friend." I growled, taking a step forward. Markus took a tiny step back as I advanced towards him. He held a hand up in defense.

"Hey now, don't shoot the messenger." Markus warned. "I'm just here to deliver letters." He opened the door and walked out, leaving the door wide open so I could see him hail a cab. Markus waved at me, his big grin taunting me as I closed the door.

I headed back upstairs and picked up my phone, dialing Lestrande's number.

"Hello?" Lestrande asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"I just met Mr. Smith's brother." I said.

"Wait you meet who?" Lestrande asked, his voice now alert.

I pulled the letter out of my pocket and read the thin black letters on the crinkled paper. It said, _ "A letter to my blogger."_

* * *

**_SOOOO Sorry for this super late update guys. I was having a lot of trouble trying to write this chapter and trying to add more emotion to the story, but anyway it's updated and in the next chapter we shall know what Sherlock wrote to John!_**

**_Thanks for Reading!_**

**_-PipeSoot72-_**


	8. Chapter 8 - Coffee Shops and Letters

**10:59 a.m. **

**221 Baker Street**

**JW**

"I see. I'll pick you up in a few minutes." Lestrande said, hanging up shortly after. I opened the letter that was still in my hand, pulling out the letter inside. It was crinkled, but still readable.

Dear, John

I'm not going to write much, but I will say that I'm all right physically. I'm still in one piece after all even though it's only been two days. I think has it been two days? It's hard to tell the time from where I am, but I'm just going to think it's been two days. Anyway I'm physically all right, but I will say I'm at a loss without my blogger to help me out of this sticky situation.

He's at a loss without his blogger? I re-read the sentence about five times before I continued to read the letter, slightly confused.

I must say I would never admit this freely, but seeing how I might die in about eight days I should tell you this know. I believe that you will get me out of this mess, John. You've put up with me this far, which a lot of people haven't. All I'm saying is I believe that my blogger will get me out of this alive then will smack me for getting into this mess to begin with.

-Sherlock-

P.S - There should be another letter along with this one, which is the Mr. Smith's instruction for today. It could be dangerous, but you should be used to danger by now.

I could feel tears start to well up and I quickly wiped them away, closing the note. I looked in the envelope again, seeing the second letter Sherlock wrote about. I recognized the writing as Mr. Smith's writing, or at least I assumed it was his writing. A knock on the door drew my attention. I looked up to see Lestrande opening the door and stepping inside the flat.

I turned around, stuffing the letter in my pocket and greeting him with a small smile.

"Where's this mysterious letter from Mr. Smith's brother?" he asked, quickly glancing around the flat.

"It's right here." I replied, holding up the second letter. "I guess he got bored of putting letters on ledges."

"Well sooner or later he'll think of a more creative way to deliver letters. May I see it?" I nodded and handed it over. Lestrande opened it and quickly glanced over the note before handing it back to me. "It says we need to go to a coffee shop."

"A coffee shop?"

"Yup." He replied, straightening his coat.

"Why do you think a coffee shop then?" I asked.

"How should I know? It's Mr. Smith." He said, turning around.

Lestrande walked out the door with me following quietly behind him. I kept my hand wrapped around Sherlock's letter. I called a quick goodbye to Mrs. Hudson before walking out onto the busy street, following Lestrande. A few minutes later we arrived at the coffee shop that Sherlock and I often went to after some cases.

"Every time we get a new clue Mr. Smith seems more and more creepy." I said as we slid into a booth.

"I know what you mean." he agreed. A waitress made her way over to our table, a smile on her face as she took our orders. She came back a few minutes later with two black coffees and placed them down on the table, taking a moment to wink at me.

I looked at the coffee cup in my hand while the waitress walked away. I looked up and Lestrande winked at me, which I rolled my eyes at him in return.

"What are we doing here anyway?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

"All I know is we're waiting for someone to show up to give us our next official clue and not these little instruction letters."

"Are you sure Mr. Smith is reliable enough to send someone who isn't going to try and kill us?" I asked. Lestrande shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, looking over the letter in his hand. "Very reliable." I sighed.

I looked over at the door and a man holding an orange package in his right hand walked in, pulling a hoodie over his head. "Hey Lestrande, is that the guy?"

"Welcome sir! Our specials for today are-" The shopkeeper called out, his energetic greeting quickly turning into a horrified scream. I didn't understand why he screamed until I saw the gun in the man's left hand.

* * *

**12:36 p.m.**

**SH**

After I finished writing the letter I was given some food, but I didn't eat much of it. Markus would knock on the door every half an hour and ask if I needed anything.

Markus was very attentive even though I was a prisoner, which wasn't normal amongst the other times I had been kidnapped, but those other times I was able to escape within a couples hours.

It's been two days and I'm starting to run out of things to think about. I deduced many things about Markus whenever he stopped by, who eventually stopped responding to me whenever I made my deductions.

"Do you need anything, Mr. Holmes?" Markus asked from outside the room. After a moment of silence I heard Markus sigh lightly. "I'll take that as a no."

"Same as the last four times." I quickly retorted, glaring at the door. Markus walked down the hallways, his steps becoming more and more muffled until they disappeared all together. I looked over at the stack of paper on the coffee table, which Markus had left in case I wanted to write any more letters. It was a stupid thing to do, considering the pen next to the stack of paper ran out of ink after I wrote the letter to John.

Hopefully John wasn't in much trouble today, especially after he fell off a ledge yesterday. No matter how long he was an army doctor it still took a lot of courage to jump off a ledge.

I hope John is all right.

* * *

**3:15 p.m. – Coffee Shop**

**JW**

We had been stuck in the coffee shop for four hours with no sign of getting out anytime soon. The man didn't say anything while he stood at the entrance, looking for around the shop every so often. He hadn't moved from that spot at the entrance in the four hours that we'd been here. I looked over at Lestrande, who was looking at the orange package in the man's hand.

Some people were huddled in tiny groups around the shop, whispering quietly to each other. The man didn't quiet them, but only seemed to respond when someone moved or got up.

"Sit back down!" He yelled when one man tried to stand up.

I leaned over to Lestrande and whispered, "What do you suppose we do?"

"I say we knock him out from behind. He doesn't see us over here." Lestrande suggested quietly. I nodded my agreement and we started to slowly edge toward the man, who didn't notice us until we were practically standing right next to him.

"Sit back down!" The man yelled, only to be cut off by a punch to the face, courtesy of Lestrande. He slumped to the ground unconscious, the gun falling out of his hand. I picked up the gun and the package while people crowded around Lestrande, thanking him for freeing them.

* * *

**3: 20 p.m.**

**JW**

"Ready to go?" I asked Lestrande after the crowd of people dispersed.

"Give me a moment to call Donovan and have her bring this man to jail." Lestrande replied, pulling out his phone. I looked over at where the man was sitting, only to see he wasn't there.

"Um Lestrande…"

"One moment."

"Lestrande I really think you need to turn around."

"What is it?" Lestrande huffed, turning around. The look of annoyance on Lestrande's face was replaced by shock when he realized that the man was gone. He dragged a hand over his face, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Never mind then. I guess we should leave then." Lestrande sighed, stuffing his phone back into his coat pocket. I tossed the package over to him, which he caught with ease.

"I guess we should leave then." I agreed, walking out the coffee shop door. I walked down the street, while Lestrande was fumbling with the package behind me. "What does it say we need to do?"

"We have to go to some warehouse." Lestrande replied.

"Sounds good." I said, holding up my hand to try and hail a cab.

I hope Sherlock is all right.

* * *

**Hey guys! Sorry this was late, but this time it was on purpose. Since it's Christmas I'm gonna be pretty busy so I'm not going to upload any more chapters until the first Monday of 2014, which should be the 6th of January. This chapter was a little longer so that should last you guys for those weeks without chapters. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**-PipeSoot72-**


	9. Chapter 9 - Hangman Games

**3:13 p.m.**

**JW**

I gave the address to the warehouse to the cab driver, who stopped so we could climb inside the car. It was only a matter of minutes before the car pulled up in front of a gigantic warehouse, which cast a massive shadow down on the street below. I paid the cab driver and stepped out of the car.

I walked up until I was at the warehouse door, Lestrande walking up to the door a few moments later. He stood beside me holding a key, which I assumed was probably the key to the warehouse. He twisted the doorknob, which was surprisingly unlocked.

"What was the point of that key then?" I asked, walking in.

"I think it's for that." Lestrande said, pointing to a glass box hanging from the ceiling.

"Are you kidding me?" I sighed, looking at Lestrande. There was nothing in the warehouse that could reach the height of the glass box, probably because it was empty.

"There was a ladder on the building, so I'm guessing we're going to have to drop down from the ceiling." Lestrande said, pointing to the windows that made up the ceiling.

"I guess Mr. Smith didn't get tired of us jumping off high places." I sighed, heading towards the door. I felt a hand on my shoulder, which was Lestrande.

"Hey you jumped off that ledge yesterday. It's my turn." Lestrande said, walking out the door. I felt somewhat relieved, but also afraid that Lestrande could get hurt. A few minutes passed and I was starting to get worried until I heard someone tapping on glass.

I looked up to see Lestrande on the glass pane just above the glass box, which swayed back and forth like a dandelion. He looked nervous so I tried to give him my best reassuring smile I could, even if he couldn't see from up there. Lestrande smiled weakly back at me and propped up the glass pane so that he could get inside.

"Be careful!" I called.

"Thanks for the great advice, John." Lestrande replied sarcastically, reaching towards the chain that held the box in the air. His hand was a few inches away from the chain, but he couldn't reach it. Even if I had gone up the ladder I still wouldn't have been able to reach it, Lestrande figured that out before I even saw the glass box.

"There's no need to be sarcastic." I replied, crossing my arms.

Lestrande got closer until he fingers were practically touching the chain, but he was holding onto the edge of the ceiling by his feet meaning he could fall at any second. I moved forward so that if he fell I could at least try to catch him. He edged forward, his fingers tightly wound around the cold steel. Not a moment later Lestrande's feet slipped off the ceiling edge, which left him dangling in mid-air.

"Are you okay Lestrande?" I asked, as soon as he stopped swaying back and forth through the air.

"Yeah, but I dropped the key." Lestrande said, breathing heavily. "It fell down into a crack in the floor." I searched the floor below Lestrande and there was a crack in the floor, from which I could see a faint gleam inside it.

"Well now what do we do?" I asked, my question coming out as more of a angry threat than a question.

"Do you have you're gun with you?" Lestrande asked, glancing down at me. I nodded and held out my gun for Lestrande to see, who nodded back in what seemed like approval.

"Good. Shoot the box." Lestrande ordered.

"What? If I do that you'll fall!" I yelled, lowering my gun.

"Well find something for me to land on then!" Lestrande huffed. I looked around the warehouse and saw an old mattress in the corner, which I pulled it over and placed it under the glass box. "There is this okay?"

Lestrande looked down and nodded his head. "Now shoot the box!" I held up my gun and fired at the box, which shattered easily, dropping whatever was inside down to the ground along with Lestrande. He landed on the mattress with a loud thump and a tinkle of broken glass. He stood up, shaking glass shards from his clothes and holding his left hand close to his body.

"I think I broke my finger."

"That's just great." I sighed, picking up the letter that had dropped out of the box. I stuffed the letter in my pocket and headed towards the door.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"After we get you to the hospital." I said, hailing a cab. We climbed inside and gave the driver the address of the hospital, whom gave us a weird look, but drove us there anyway. The cab driver pulled up in front of the hospital. I stepped out after Lestrande and turned to pay the cab driver, who held up his hand and shook his head.

"I'm just doing my job. I'll inform Mr. Smith you got his letter." He smiled, closing the door and driving off. I stood there shocked, until Lestrande shook my arm suddenly.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Nothing at all." I replied, stepping into the hospital.

**4:27 p.m.**

After Lestrande's visit to the hospital, which proved he did indeed break his finger, we drove back to Scotland Yard to open the latest letter. I sat down in a chair in Lestrande's office and pulled the letter out of my pocket, handing it to him. Lestrande opened it slowly and pulled out the paper inside.

"What does it say?" I asked, seeing his brow furrowing in confusion.

"When in the room take 7 steps north then 3 steps west." Lestrande said, sighing a little at the end. "Again it makes absolutely no sense at all." He passed the note to me, which I held up to the light on the ceiling. When I did that I could see a few letters and dashes in the light.

"S / _o_ / _ _ _ / A_ _ _." I said.

"A hangman puzzle?"

"I guess so."

* * *

**Sorry for this somewhat late post, but you know how life is and all. One chapter away from chapter 10! If you have any suggestions about future challenges for John and Lestrande to endure I would be very happy if you told me those ideas! If you do have some ideas to help further the story along I am open to suggestions; Just leave them in the reviews and I might just use them :3**

**Also since chapter 10 is a pretty big deal (well it is to me at least) it will be a little longer then the other chapters so you can expect chapter 10 to be close to 2K+ words.**

**Thanks for Reading!**

**-PipeSoot72-**


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